Ink Blot
by TheRevolutionIsInMyHands
Summary: A girl in the wastes, without an identity, steals and runs to survive. Howl finds her in her new safe spot. Can he break her of the habit? Or will she revert back to her roots? Is there any hope for a soulless magician? A heartless one, yes, but soulless?
1. Let's Play Tightrope

**DISCLAMER: I do not own Howl's Moving Castle, though I'd love it if Howl were real! The only things I own are the plot and my OC! :D**

Today, the narrow alleyways were less than inviting; no laundry hung on strings stretching from one rooftop to the other, no smiling faces through the windows. Every house was empty, waiting on the main streets. The Royal Parade was thrumming to life—no one would be caught dead at home, doing _laundry._

I heard the procession, and I looked down at my boney hands; they itched to take, to grab however much could be held. My legs shook in the anticipation of a chase that was more than less likely to happen. An angry rumble rocked my gut.

_Steal,_ my mind processed, _you want to steal._

The cobblestones made a soft _pat, pat_ noise against my bare feet. I saw a door that was partially ajar, and made my selfish way to the chipped blue paint. The fireplace was still on. _Stupid, _I thought, _don't they know what could happen if the fire isn't out?_ I decided against mentally chastising them for the open door; the people here have just won me my next meal.

Some ashes spilled from the hearth. I pushed them further in with my palms, until they nearly touched the flames, and threw in one more log of wood. A tiny, unnoticed thank you.

The counter was filled with fresh food; breads, vegetables, fruit, and several small fish; I let my hands scrape small portions of it into the empty burlap sack in my hand. It shouldn't be missed. Right as I was turning around, a shadow appeared on the sunset-painted road.

"Okay, Mother! I'll get your coat for you!" A girl's voice called. I saw a blur of blond through the window; my heart stopped. _Get away!_

To my right there were stairs. _Take them! Quick, she's coming in!_

I made loud thumps going up the wooden staircase, and once I got to the top and around the corner, I waited with my back to the wall. Listened. Felt the relief so powerful once I heard nothing but silence. _Which means you must be even quieter than the night,_ I told myself. My fingers glided along the smooth walls until I found a closed door. The knob was smooth in my hand. I turned it, and the tiniest _click_—

"Who's there?"

She was closer now. The bottom of the stairs. I swung the door open; crept inside the tiny room without turning my back.

Until a tiny snore erupted the silence.

I turned around, saw the sleeping form, and started to panic. My heart thumped so wildly, I was surprised the elderly man sleeping in the bed didn't wake.

"Grandfather?"

No! She was coming up the stairs. Closer and closer. Without thinking, I dove under the bed and stilled every bodily function I knew how.

"Grandfather," the girl breathed. Her black shoes poked out from underneath a forest green dress with eyelet lace trimming. I saw them through the bed skirt. "Well, that's strange," she mumbled, "I thought I'd heard something. Could have been the cat. ." and she left, with a navy blue coat over her arm.

It was several long breaths before I could shimmy out from underneath the bed. The parade was closer, getting louder and louder. The girl was gone.

I saw the open window and decided how bad of an idea it was to play Tightrope Walker on the clothes-line. Pretty bad . . . but I needed the fun after a scare like that. And I knew how secure the lines were; they were practically bolted on.

Circus music filled my ears when my right foot stepped on the window pane, hands went to the sides, and my left foot caressed the line. I stood, the sack precariously swinging from my teeth.

Before I moved, I saw an awkward blot in the sky. It was moving, but it was too big to be a bird. Too many colors. Green, white, black, a hint of brown and a smidgeon of blond. No, not a bird. Magic? Oh well. Magic shouldn't affect me; I had nothing to do with it, no good memories to share with it, so magic must not want me—though I ached for it in my heart.

I'd wished on every first star I've seen for magic. To have abilities, to bend nature to my will like clay in an artist's hands. Wishes never seemed to come true, though. Time to get going; no more depressing magic thought—though I'm probably going to think of it as I sleep. Okay.

One step. I'm a genius. Two steps. I'm a wonder. Three, now getting over the road. I'm a prodigy. In the middle of the road up high. I'm a magician. Three quarters of the way there. I'm a—

"STOP! THIEF!"

That girl stood below me about twenty-seven feet. She pointed. She hurled insults like the wind hurled breezes; it was hard to keep balanced. The bag swung uncomfortably. I did my best—I tried and tried. I finally stepped onto another window-sill, and grabbed the rooftop. Swung the bag up, then myself; time to get away.

Run, run, run!

Gotta GO!

My legs nearly failed me on the way down. They tried to buckle and wobble, and I couldn't let them. My thighs screamed as I landed hard on a lower rooftop. My shoulder hurt as I banged it on a metal pole holding a shop's awning up. I whimpered and my eyes watered when I landed back on the ground. Guards were there, ready to capture me. I was done for.

Their uniform buttons sparkled in sunlight as they chased me down the narrow, but mostly empty, streets. I ditched the fish from the bag; useless. They wavered for two seconds, wondering what I'd thrown—those two seconds allowed me to get away.

For now, I'm safe.

****

So? How was it? Tell me all about what you think! I know this is only the introductory piece, and Howl (3) is sure to show up later! Like in the next chapter, hint, hint!

**Btw, I know this is an insanely short chapter, so I will update longer and longer chapters. This one is basically just to get the feel of the story and main character!**


	2. It Has A Face!

**DISCLAMER: I do not own Howl's Moving Castle, though I'd love it if Howl were real! The only things I own are the plot and my OC! :D **

All I could feel was fire; it's in my legs, my lungs, my back. I would need to stop sooner or later. Sooner or later—_now._

My legs couldn't hold my weight any longer. I saw my legs twitching as I flopped on my back; I couldn't feel them anymore, like the power of my relief was strong enough to numb them.

Where . . . where _was_ I?

_The outskirts of The Wastes, stupid, _I thought. It just looked so different from here.

Eerie mist curled everywhere! Around myself, in the air, in every breath I took; like the clouds swooped down to conceal me. All around me was in grayscale, save for the circle of damp grass I was sitting on.

I was silently grateful. I laid my head on a soft spot of earth and let the heavenly-feeling fog become my blanket.

_HSSSSSS! CLANK! HSSSSSS! CLANK! CREAKKKKKK! HSSSSSS!_

Before I even knew what in God's name made that awful, half-hissing half-baying sound, I was up and running. _It's gonna hurt me, nothing's forgiving towards me_, I thought. And the instant I thought it, it seemed true.

I never received any help from a stranger, any food from a wealthy person. No one knew what they had until they lost it—or never had any. But it could be worse.

My legs felt like gelatin. They shook and sent me sailing into the ground more than a few times as the hissing monster clanked behind me. This time I couldn't find the strength to get back up—I'd left all my food back who-knows-where, and now a giant monster was after me! I didn't want to admit it, but I really felt like breaking down and curling into a ball; crying.

I wanted to—but I wouldn't. Like tears ever helped anything before? I couldn't get up, though. I was too tired of running. _Let the monster get me,_ I thought, _it sounds way better than living such a sinful life._

I braced for impact, but none came. I opened one eye—

Before I knew my own name, a claw-like hunk of metal struck the ground only feet to my right! The burst of sound that came from my throat sounded more avian than human; I'd found my will to run again, and fast! Go, go, go!

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" The piercing shriek flew from my mouth, and I ran blindly into the mist—well what _other_ demons could I find?

The ground shook terrifyingly with each of the monster's steps, so much so that I wobbled and had to catch myself each time. _Don't die, don't die!_

There was a clearing of mist ahead; it was slowly becoming visible. I hoped I'd be able to see the thing that might possibly kill me. I tried to outrun the metal monster, and succeeded in going a teensy bit faster—not fast enough to outrun any-damn-thing, though! The clearing got closer and closer—I could practically taste the cleaner air! Then—

—it wasn't a clearing. It was a cliff. _Oops._

The scream didn't even _make it _out of my lungs. I fell back and backpedaled hard, raking the ground harder. My wrists were twisted backwards, my lower half was skidding along the mist-soaked grass and my heels kicked up fresh mud. By the time I'd stopped, my legs were hanging off the edge, and I was gripping the grass so hard some of it pulled up out of the ground. I shifted my weight and began to scoot backwards until my legs were far from the cliff's edge. No more Earth-rocking shudders were felt. I turned around and looked up expectantly. My fear evaporated instantly, replaced by a stronger, burning curiosity. Not a monster.

Howl's Moving Castle.

I knew I didn't have anyone to tell me rumors, but ones about Howl I knew. He stole beautiful women's hearts, to substitute it for his own, which had been stolen by a demon. He was an amazingly gifted magician. I even once heard he lead women astray at night and stole their hearts that way. I didn't know details. I did know seeing his castle was considered bad—awful—the _worst!—_luck!

I knew most of Howl's looks; a sunny blond head that shone like the depths of a flame, skin so fair and flawless it looked like ivory infused with peach, eyes like glacial sapphires—so blue and clear. Of course I'd never seen him before, and these were only things I've heard around town. He _sounded_ like a God—no, a Fallen Angel fit his description more; beautiful, with a broken path.

My eyes couldn't even make me believe I was _seeing_ it. Seeing _Howl's Moving Castle!_ Seeing it! With my eyes!

Though, the more I saw of it . . . the more it looked like it was held together with mud. The thing was jiggling like crazy, like someone stacked a bunch of junkyard scraps together (and I know a thing or two about scraps) and put _legs_ on it. And made it move. _What makes it move?_

The castle—it seemed grand enough to be called one—shuddered and planted itself. Well, the legs sort of only crumpled in on themselves a bit. And it was still a good ten, twelve feet above my head if I stood up.

I couldn't see the top of the castle. It just loomed behind me and I tilted my head back to see. I was in its shadow. Countless rusty metal objects were magically hewn together into this building. It was fantastic, to say the very least. I wanted to reach out and touch it, only to see if it would disappear. Nothing in my life was ever so _spectacular_ as seeing this! I looked back to when I thought a monster was chasing me, and mentally smacked myself. No _way_ could his house be a monster! I laughed, over exuberant with relief mixed with the nerves.

What did seeing this castle, being this close to it, mean? Was I special? Favored? Was he watching me, deciding when to steal my heart from afar? I imagined he would swoop in. His shoulders would hunch and a wicked smile would grow on his pale lips. His eyes would widen, maybe even change color, and my heart would be ripped from its entombing bed, and gently placed in his chest. I'd be a pale, stiff doll of a girl. I'd turn into a female demon until I got someone else's heart; I'd be the same as Howl. A shudder ripped its way through me.

Did I want to find out what was in the castle? Yes! Hell yes!

Did I want to find Howl? Yes and no.

Did I want to give away my heart? NO!

The castle was still yet creaking ominously. I felt a strong mental and emotional connection to it. Like I needed it. Like it would be my only safe haven, which is ridiculous, but . . . but what if it were true? What if I could find my only safe spot ever in the place everyone fears? It'd be ironic, yes, but it could also be possible.

The castle lurched, and I flinched away as if it would bite me—well, it looked as if it had a giant _face!_ With a _tongue!_ It sort of wiggled, and looking at it made me feel slightly uncomfortable with being so close. Then, I remembered it was just a building. And after I remembered that, I remembered it was a _moving_ building . . . with a _face_. It should be considered _sane_ to be terrified by it. It would be _in_sane to want to go inside, explore (possibly get my heart stolen). Too bad I wasn't in a sane mood today.

I wanted to go in—badly.

And my first step turned out to be a little more than shaky.

**WEEE! I finished the second chapter! Now, in case any one of you are wondering, the next chapter may or may not contain the main character (my OC)'s name. Heehee. I really cant tell you more without giving away my plot XD. Please read, and review!**

—**signed, Revo**


	3. I don't Have One

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Howl's Moving Castle, but I do own my OC, whose name you might find out in this chapter (it really depends on where my mind leads me).**

My safe place, my home; I imagined finding it in this rusty castle. I'd live among its awkward spires and wander its halls. Maybe he'd even let me keep my heart—I'm sure Howl wasn't into the whole idea of Orphan Chic. Even the thought (or maybe my nerves) made me giggle.

Before I gave my heart to this place, I wanted to look around. Aside from the castle—with a _face!_—the surrounding area seemed beautiful. The grass was green under the Moving Castle's shadow; the sky was a turquoise blue, speckled with clouds that looked like puffs of smoke from an old man's pipe. The breeze was warm; the sun was in the right place above everything else. Even the mist had receded into the dark.

I was feeling . . . happy. As weird as the emotion felt in my body, it felt _good!_ It was such a strange feeling next to the numb fear I'd had not two seconds ago. Strange. Was the castle spelled to make someone feel this way? If it was just for Howl, I would understand why someone would want their home to feel happy and safe and . . . like a home . . . like somewhere you belong. . . I felt my lips turn up and my eyes widen—then I thought of what I had (nothing). And then I knew this was where I would someday belong. I would end up here. _This is where you're meant to stay_, something in my mind screamed. Yes, it even felt right in my heart. Who knew how much longer I'd have it? So I savored the feeling. I felt no sense of loss when I started to move towards the little hanging staircase (complete with railings and door) on the belly of the "beast." My heart pounded against my ribcage; I felt its fast-paced beating and reveled in it—nothing had ever made me feel this way._ Except for stealing—from taking back what reality stole, _my mind, becoming a real downer, remembered. I'd have to try and not think if I went inside.

_When I went inside_. It wasn't so much a thought as it was a mental command. I _need_ to do this. How proud of myself would I be if I just walked away from what could be the greatest (or worst) moment in my life? To go back to taking all my possessions from others would seem . . . almost wrong. Even if it wouldn't be missed. Even if it was just food. Maybe a blanket (which I always returned to the wash-lines or baskets.

I realized why I wanted to go inside.

_Magic. The place has magic all around it._

I'd been fascinated by it since I saw it along the streets—one of my happiest memories. I saw an old magician opening clasped hands and revealing a swirling orb of light. The light was baby blue. He was teaching it to another man, whom I only saw the back of. He was raven-haired and tall. The old man closed his hands again, shook his head at the boy—more of a _man,_ I'd say—and turned away. I saw the young man trying to do it. He closed his palms, twisted them and opened them again. A tiny speck was there; a pale green, sickly light. Nowhere near as magnificent as the orb I'd just seen. The boy swore and took off in my opposite direction—I never saw his face. The old man fell asleep in his chair then.

I'd seen them on one other occasion—I often was near the old magician, and even though he never once noticed me, he was like a grandfather. He never swept me away.

One of those days the boy came back. He looked different, though this time his face, save for his eyes, was covered by a scarf. I didn't remember the color; I only knew they scared something deep inside me. A gut feeling that warned me of him, so I slightly shrank back into the shadows.

The boy clapped his hands together, twisted them roughly and spread them apart as far as his arms would go. I remember how my eyes widened until they hurt.

Between his arms, a golden filigree of light (_magic!_) was woven. It had patterns within patterns, all of them beautiful. I saw fire between his arms that night, and he held it expertly. He waved his arms and the pattern extended. It billowed out into a shining scarf. He closed his hands again. It dissolved into tiny fragments like stars. It was the best memory I ever had. But his eyes—though they were a blank, they looked wrong. Empty. A blank page, almost.

The old man wheezed, sat up and said the most memorable thing I'd ever heard.

_"Where has your passion gone?"_

Back to real time. I was tired of memories.

I stood in front of the slightly quivering staircase, grasping its iron railings for support. I was not yet on the slab of wood that stood for a porch. A dirty welcome mat was stapled to it. A green one. I stared at it—nervous. Nervous nervous nervous. I gripped the railings tighter and stepped up.

_This isn't so bad. . ._

I stomped my feet a little. Some creaking, but it was to be expected. Such a rusty old thing. . .

"Whoa!"

The castle stood up! Not any building can, but this one did! It straightened its birdlike stilts and _stood up._ It swayed, and I swear I almost got sick. My hands were almost soldered to the railings. The building heaved and swung its weight around (and me along with it!). It was _moving! With me on it!_ I felt like a bird with a broken wing. I couldn't soar, but I sure as hell could puke and try to hold on for the ride.

I didn't end up puking at all. I shuffled my feet up to the door, swung it open, and threw myself inside before I could chicken out (or, you know, fall to my death. It happens).

I landed on a small flight of stairs. Another filthy mat was thrown in front of this door. A small whirring and an even tinier _ding _brought my eyes upward to a multi-colored dial-and-arrow system. Only about four colors; blue, green, red, and black. It was currently on green. I slammed the door, a little hard.

Landing on the stairs _hurt!_ I rubbed my back and quietly (_moving with the silence only a thief could master, _my mind reminded me) made my way up the stairs.

"HEY! WHO ARE YOU?" A nasal voice screamed. I jumped and whirled around every which way. Was the castle talking to me?

"Over here, lady! In the fire!"

I looked over at a small flame. It had _eyes. EYES! On a fire!_

"Yeah, it's me! I'm the one talkin'! Why are you here?" it asked calmly.

". . ."

"Hello? Anybody home? . . . Guess not. Hey, while you're at it, with your fancy appendages, could ya get me another log?" I hurried over next to the talking fire and placed a fresh log of firewood on it. An arm reached up. The fire hauled itself on top of the flaming log. I stared.

"Fire demon."_ Oh._ I nodded. "While Markl's out, tell me why you're here." I shrugged. Who was Markl? "Markl is Howl's apprentice. He should be back anytime. . . So are you gonna tell me why you're here?" I shook my head. I didn't even think about how he knew what I was thinking about. I thought about a different piece of the conversation. This _was_ Howl's castle. I entered it—how would he get rid of me? He obviously didn't want some child running around his home other than his apprentice, which may not be a child at all. . .

Would he just simply open the door and kick me out, or would he kill me? Would he take my heart? Would I see him clearly? Was he even a demon? _I know he has demons in his house. . ._

"If you won't tell me why you're here, will you tell me your name?" I shook my head again. His guess was as good as mine.

"You _have_ to have a name!" I shook my head again. "_I _have a name. It's Calcifer—the sole reason this castle moves; the mighty and fearless!" He said. I still wouldn't speak—I couldn't find any words. "Well when you feel like talking, talk to me. Would ya mind?" one of his spindly, flaming appendages pointed towards the wood pile. I lifted another log and placed it next to him. "Thanks, lady."

There was the strange whirring and ding again—the door must be opening! The dial was blue, and a small, cloaked figure came in. Howl?

"Markl!" Calcifer jumped, "I don't know who this lady is, I swear! She just walked in! Look what she gave me!" he pointed to the log I set before him.

"Who are you?" the cloaked figure, in the voice of a child younger than I, spoke. He flipped the hood off his head, and ran a hand down his beard; it disappeared. Clearly there was strong magic here. Clearly I wanted to stay.

"Well?" I didn't answer. "Calcifer!" he turned, "How could you let her in here? Master Howl will be furious. . ." Markl drowned his own sentence. "So how did she get in? You _didn't _let her, right?"

"No!" he protested. "She got in through the front door when I wasn't paying attention! It wasn't my fault!" I shot him a look—if he didn't want me in here, why couldn't he keep the door shut? He _was_ a fire demon. I suspected he was moving this place. Demons were funny—that was that, and I didn't want another explanation. I'd ask him when I found my voice.

"Whatever. I suppose you don't take up much space," he pointedly said to me, "So as long as you don't touch _anything_ I assume you'll be fine." He didn't wait for my answer. "I need to get a spell ready for a customer in Kingsbury." He went off to the other side of the room, and I gazed back at Calcifer.

". . . Do you _move_ this thing?" I asked, hesitant.

"Hey, she can talk! Yes, I move the castle. I do ALL the work! Hot water, move the castle, cook us something, heat the entire house—"as he complained about his workload, I gazed around. The place was filthy. Dirt even coated the ceiling! By far the filthiest house I'd seen, and I've been in a lot of houses. What was I even _stepping_ on? It sure wasn't hardwood floors. . . "And I do this, that, and then Howl comes in saying—"

The door, whose whirring and dinging had already started to comfort me and sound familiar, opened. The dial was on black.

"Howl!" Calcifer shrieked.

I lifted my head to meet him straight on. I felt my eyes freeze the instant I saw him.

His appearance was astonishing—exactly like the townspeople's rumors, only greater in beauty. His hair was blond, but it was so vibrant it nearly hurt my eyes. His eyes were just like a glacial sapphire, if it made sense. So light and blue. . . And he was _tall._ I kept my eyes from looking at his face directly anymore—if you looked at the sun too long, you would go blind. A rush of shame engulfed me; I've been caught inside this man's house.

"Calcifer?" Howl asked; he didn't _seem_ mad. Then again, looks can be deceiving.

"Why does everybody blame me? 'Oh, blame the fire demon, he must've done it!' Then 'Calcifer, do this, do that!'" he complained. "All 'o you would have nowhere to go without me!"

"Cal . . . who is this?"

"Well _I_ don't know! She won't tell me her name!"

He turned and gazed at me. My lips were tightly sealed—no way was I going to humiliate myself; I'd leave. Sure I felt at home here, but not in front of Howl. There was no way to feel at home here. Not for me. I started towards the door.

"Won't you stay?"

I froze. The invitation was so sudden and awkward. Even my ears couldn't believe it.

"We were just about to eat—"

At the very mention of food, my traitorous stomach growled. The noise was loud, angry. I felt my heart stop.

"Stay. Please. As long as you're here, you're our guest. Markl!" he ordered Markl out to get more food. Howl would finish the potion himself.

"I'll be back!" he said.

I moved into a discreet corner of the room and sat myself down in it. I refused to be a burden. Stealing was one thing, but eating in the open was another. I'd be eating with _people._ Not just myself anymore. I was nervous, edgy. I've never wanted to blend in with the faded wallpaper more.

"Why are you all the way over there?" Calcifer asked from the hearth. Observant fire demons . . . who knew?

"Nothing." I murmured.

"It's _cold_ over there. Howl isn't gonna start cooking 'till Markl comes back, so have a seat over here and tell Grandpa Cal all your problems." I giggled, imagining the "fearless fire demon" with a beard, speaking with a wheezy voice. "Don't _laugh_ at me! I'll burn your food!" I still laughed—like I wasn't so hungry I'd eat it raw?

It was only a short minute before Markl was back with bread and chicken. My mouth watered. It smelled even better when Howl cooked it—though I had to move, he allowed me to be close to him. Close as in touching distance. And he didn't shy away or shove or yell anything hateful.

I couldn't count the minutes he cooked. I just sat there and watched. Calcifer commented a few times, but that was it. They all looked like a family. I felt a string of emotions—happiness, loneliness, a sense of not belonging, regret. I shouldn't have intruded in their home. . . Sure, I was starving, but this was their home. I had no place in it, nor would I ever. And I would set an example of myself. I wouldn't take from another home. I wouldn't steal from anyone ever again. Even once chance of ruining a family like this, the countless fights over hard-earned food I'd stolen, wasn't worth it anymore. I would starve. Just seeing a happy family getting ready to eat together brought me to this. The emotion that went through me was startling. Was it Howl's magic?

"Time to eat!" Markl rejoiced, cramming food like he was as starving as me. I sat at the table (only to be polite—well, I hoped it was considered polite to give in to your host's wishes) at Howl's request. I did not touch my food—it looked tantalizing. My mouth was literally watering with the effort of _not_ touching the food in front of me._ Take it!_

_No! I don't want to be a thief anymore!_

_It's cooked, warm food, and they're offering it to you! They're just being nice—besides, what have you got to lose? You have nowhere to go!_

_I can go crawl under a rock somewhere! I'll live and die like the thieving brat I am!_

_It's getting cold!_

_I don't care!_

"Don't you like it?" Howl asked me from across the tiny, cluttered kitchen table. The books outnumbered everything else on it combined. I loved the closeness. The cozy feel of everything (even if thick dust covered everything). But, of course, he was talking about the food which I was pushing around my dirty plate with my dirt-specked fork.

"It's delicious," I hadn't tried a bite of it yet. It looked good. Calcifer was got some, too, and he liked it. Why was I afraid to eat? They wouldn't poison me yet. . . At least _I_ didn't think they would.

"You haven't taken one bite yet." Howl countered. I didn't know what to say. I looked at Markl—he wasn't there, "Bathroom. I was just about to leave, too." He set his eyes on me, as if to say _and then I noticed you weren't eating._

"I'm fine."

"You aren't. You won't even tell us your name."

"I don't have one."

"This is the most you've spoken since you've been here." I nodded. He stared at me for two seconds. "I hear there's a storm coming in. It's supposed to be bad. Why don't you stay here for the night, and we'll go from there?"

Was he asking me to stay here? With him? In his house? With an actual family? My heart thudded so loud I thought he heard it—no, I was sure he heard it. Hell, I even tasted it in my mouth at the moment! It was the craziest thing I'd ever felt.

His eyebrow was still raised in a perfect blond arch, waiting for my response. When I gave none, he nodded and said, "I'll find a place for you to sleep."

I bent down and took my first bite—I didn't think he would let me get away without it. Then, hunger I was used to (as used to it as you can get) slammed me into the wall. I devoured everything on the plate, and maybe even the plate if I wasn't being careful not to.

"I'm not going to finish," Howl said, dumping his and my plates into the sink. I was still frozen. I said I wouldn't eat. I ate. What promises could I keep if I couldn't keep one to myself? "There's a small room upstairs. Well, it's more of a closet, really, but it's the only thing we could do and—"

"I don't think I can stay." I said.

"Really?" Howl's look said he knew I was homeless. It said _what family obligations have _you_ got?_ I said nothing.

"Why not stay for only a night?"

He was right. Why not?

One night couldn't hurt. . .

**AAAAAAAND….. CHAPTER 3 IS FINALLY DONE! :D hope you all like it =]**


	4. Noble Hearts Seek Blue Moons

**Guess what guys? I've been ultra-busy! TOO BUSY TO UPLOAD! So I thought I would re-do my quickie chapter XD I hope this is better!**

The bed Howl had set up for me was nice. It was like sleeping on a cloud—if clouds were in the backs of upstairs closets. I was currently reveling in my nest of fluffy blankets, almost cooing with delight. I was so happy, and decided that the decision to stay wasn't a bad thing after all; but a nagging ache on my backburner told me it was too much. I was a thief, not a house guest.

Then the dark screen of jackets split open and my mouth switched off. I felt my cheeks cool. Felt my limbs freeze while Howl gazed in at me with crystalline eyes. A slow tingling wanted me to smile up at him from this little corner of heaven, but I shut it down.

"Glad you like it," he said; he must've heard me. I felt my face tighten up, the tingling becoming irrationally strong in my jaw and cheekbones. "You say you _don't _know your name?"

He was still on this? I nodded. I hadn't known my name, ever. I'd come to think that I had none. "Come with me. Markl's asleep already, and we don't need Calcifer—" I went to object, "—I promise it'll only take a few minutes." It was an odd sight; a runaway magician apologizing to an outcast thief.

"I don't want to waste your time." Or magic, I thought. What if there was a limit to that sort of thing?

Instead of answering with words, he tapped my shoulder. When I wouldn't respond, he tapped it again; as he grew tired of tapping me, he grasped my upper arm and forced me out of the closet-turned-bed. I had no idea what he had in store for me. My guesses ranged from food to death. Considering the latter, I felt suddenly queasy and frail. A cold sweat broke out over my body, and the bottoms of my feet itched to turn and sprint for the exit. But with Howl's cool hand on my arm, and his somewhat energetic look, I found I couldn't move the tiniest fraction away; even if it could save my life.

I shuffled with my eyes to the floor. It was old and dry, and each step I took left a small white cloud of dust. We took several turns,. but I never looked up until I saw him stop. Howl looked down at me, holding a doorknob. He flicked his wrist, and the softest of golden lights radiated on my legs. It was almost as warm as fire, with a muggy feel to it; like breathing in liquid gold.

"Please," Howl asked, "hold up your head. Be proud of yourself. This will not be a night for regrets. This is a night for finding yourself. I remember when I did this . . ." and for a moment, he seemed lost in memory.

When I lifted my head the shine of metal and precious jewels nearly blinded me. The flinch almost made me fall to the ground. It hurt to look at if you were a creature born to serve the night.

"Back here." Howl said, "All your answers are back here."

I still crouched, unable to stand. He grabbed my shoulders and helped me, mumbling about how my eyes would adjust faster if I opened them. When I did, rivulets of gold and silver and bronze streamed everywhere! Gems glittered around us, and I imagined it was like living in a jewelry box—a wealthy person's jewelry box.

Everything that I'd ever seen made of metal somehow ended up here; only multiplied by thousands. They covered the wall, these little trinkets, and more than half of them had those precious gems. Some tarnished, others gleamed like the heavens. And so many moving parts. . .

"This way," he seemed to sigh.

I walked too fast, too eagerly, and I bumped into his back. I'd resumed peering at my toes. I hoped I didn't make him angry. I looked up—

—and a wash of silver, pure, soul-colored silver, ran over me and all around me. We had left the golden room behind. As I turned in quick, small circles, I couldn't see it anymore. We were surrounded by silver, by peace. I turned my eyes towards Howl, but only a rustle of fabric greeted me; it hurriedly changed into a deep _smack_ against the air. It sounded like large wings flapping. Although I couldn't see him, I knew Howl was right above me, in the darkening silver sky.

"This part of the room looks different to everyone. I keep it hidden, under every lock, key, and concealment spell I know. To me it looks like an underground lake. What do you see?" he asked. His voice sounded distant and it reverberated throughout the room.

"A cliff."

"It seems to tell the future," he continued, oblivious, "—you see a cliff? That's a strange omen. I'd say something's about to happen. Explain more of it to me. Tell me what you see. Use your words for my eyes. I want to believe!" With an eerie dance of feathers in my ear, his voice swam around me.

"It's grassy. Everything's silver and shining. I feel it in between my fingers, and the air feels different here. It's thick. I feel it running through my hair and drenching my clothes, but when I feel them they're dry. I hear nothing; it's completely silent except for little shining noises I've never heard. There's water at the bottom of the cliff. A tree on top, at the edge. There are little ponds every few yards. The sky here is huge—it takes up everything! The stars are falling and skipping across the water and the land, leaving little bursts of color. And the rest is all silver or black. Except for the moon. The moon is blue."

"That's the most I've heard you speak."

"Why am I here?"

"_We_ are here to find out who you are. I want you to place your hand over my heart and show me what you see. Do it. Now."

"But I can't see you!"

"Behind you," he whispered. I turned slowly and collided with Howl. Only Howl wasn't Howl. Cobalt feathers jutted from his skin. The skin around his eyes, cheekbones, and jaw were coated in what looked like a mask. Wings stabbed out from his back; spread, the wing span almost blotted out the sky. But his eyes, I realized, were blank, without pupils.

"I want you to cover my eyes," he said. "Give me sight. I want to see who you are."

I took my hands and reached, a warm silvery breeze blowing, for his eyes. The feathers around them were soft, like velvet. I wanted to stroke them, but Howl's hands were already moving to cover mine. He pressed gently, but his legs suddenly buckled. He gasped and pitched from one side to the other, until he hit the ground. I tried so hard to pull my hands from his! But he held on; he wept into my fingers.

"I can see it." He murmured, almost a whisper, opening his eyes. "It's beautiful. Do you know what this room also does—how can you? It doesn't only show the future. It can show you anything—anything about you at all! But only you can unlock it." Tears still lay in the corners of his eyes.

"How?" My voice cracked.

I thought I'd hurt him.

"You have to see your true potential. If you recognize yourself as an equal, or do something heroic or tragic, you will unlock every secret you have. Even if you do not remember keeping it. The basic principle is this: you must believe. Not only that, but you have to see that you have a _soul_."

"Who's soul?"

"Your soul."

"But I have none."

"Nonsense."

"I'm telling you the truth!" All my pain came to me in that moment. All the harsh nights under bridges, under shops' awnings, on rooftops and under the stars. All the hunger that clawed at my stomach. Every shred of emotion I had was flung into my words.

I had power.

"You have a soul! That's what created this wonder of a place!" he shouted back.

"If I had a soul why would it make a room?"

"It's not just a _room!_ It's a manifestation of your hopes, desires, and emotions! Don't be blind to it!"

"Don't call _me_ blind! _You're_ the one who let a thief into his house! Let her _sleep_ here! C'mon, Howl! You know just as well as I do that I'm nothing more!"

As I said those last words, the room turned to black.

Howl stayed suspended in midair.

His lips moved, still yelling; but I was deaf to it. Sound didn't exist. He looked like he was furious, with himself or me I didn't know. He just stood there, yelling back at me. I tried to decipher the words.

_This place . . . destroyed . . . a matter of time . . . believe, you . . . a soul . . . salvage what's left . . . now. . . believe, believe, believe._

I plummeted.

"_Hey!"_ he shouted his voice hoarse. I could hear again. _"Hey!"_ the screaming was almost drowned out by the rush of air around me. I wasn't scared, though. It was a comfortable sensation; there was nothing like it. Knowing you weren't about to hit an end, because it seemed as if there wasn't one.

All the thick silver in my body bled out and surrounded Howl like a jacket. It streamed up my arms, spiraled down my legs, and shot upward.

My breath left my lungs.

"_Believe! Believe you have a soul!"_ and he was wrapped in silver. I couldn't see him anymore.

I hit the ground.

Something breathtaking happened.

I saw my body lying before me, unconscious. Her lips were red, her eyes strange; one deep blue with golden flecks, the other silver with green flecks. They were open and glassy. Her skin was ivory white. She wore only a thin sheet tied around her malnourished frame. Her hair was black and long.

I was a soul.

My soul.

_My soul_. It sounded weird, even in my head.

I was shoved by an invisible hand back into my body, in the dark. I sat up, feeling compelled, and looked. Just looked. I had a soul. I'd just been one. A hazy outline of grey over a nearly lifeless body, hovering. Howl was right.

I wasn't without an option.

Howl, outlined in familiar silver, screamed down at me; the words never reached my ears. But the silver lining left him and flew back to me, coating me all over and rising me like a tiny green shoot. And suddenly, my cliff was back, the stars falling; the sounds heavenly. Howl ran from his crouch and raced up to me.

"Howl," I whispered, "I have a soul."

"I know you do. I knew it all along."

"Why didn't I believe you?"

"Noble hearts tend to refuse what they don't want to hear."

"I don't think I'm—"

"Trust me. Remember what I said."

"How could I forget?" All I had to do was believe.

Believe.

Believe.

Believe.

—-

**Now I hope this chapter just got better! I haven't updated in a really long time, so I hope I can start on the next chapter really soon! I love you all!**

—**TRIIMH**


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